Chapter 6: 6

Dante was silent for a long time. After staring at the page without meaning for a long time, he eventually turned his head towards me.

 

“Yeah, I’m curious.”

 

His voice was full of unexplained injustice.

 

“Like seeing someone I met for the first time yesterday, I don’t know what you are thinking. You don’t want to tell me anything about you, and I don’t even know if the name you gave me is real.”

 

I was shocked to see Dante pouring out his words as if he was waiting. Although we lived in the same house and spent most of the time together, she never dreamed that Dante would be thinking like this.

 

Yet I didn’t show any surprise.

 

“So you were just asking outright? How old am I?”

 

My face was still smiling, and Dante seemed to be offended. No, I think he’s rather anxious.

 

“Why. Can’t I?”

 

I don’t try to get to know others, and I’m not good at talking about myself. There was no particular reason, it was just a habit of mine after living for a long time.

 

If other people keep being locked up in the same amount of time as they grow old, they will naturally come to know. How useless it is to get to know and interact with each other..

 

But I think it was strange in Dante’s eyes that I was doing this. No matter how much we live together, we don’t even try to talk about our petty hobbies.

 

We often lived in the same house and spent time together, so it made him wonder.

 

I admitted that I was too distracted. And how uncomfortable it must have been for Dante. Come to think of it, he must have been more concerned because he was a guest over there.

 

Usually, if I show that, “I don’t want to get any closer than needed,” this much, they’ll get away on their own, but that didn’t go well with Dante.

 

“It’s not something you can’t do.”

 

A light of embarrassment flashed across Dante’s face as I denounced cleanly.

 

“But even if you’re curious about my age, I won’t tell you.”

 

“…Why?”

 

“I don’t like to tell people my age.”

 

“There’s something you don’t like…”

 

I heard a murmur that was close to a grunt, but I pretended I didn’t hear it.

 

“But if you ask me anything else, I’ll tell you.”

 

“…”

 

“For real. Don’t look at me with such a disbelieving face.”

 

Isn’t one supposed to ask questions when I say something like this? As I smiled and whispered, it seemed that Dante had finally come to his senses.

 

“…I can’t think of anything now because it’s so sudden.”

 

“Really? I won’t answer if it’s not now, though”

 

It was funny to see him stiffened after saying this one word. As it’s fun to tease him.

 

“It’s a joke. Ask me later when you remember.”

 

Dante acted like he was about to get a promise, as if he had gotten nervous about my prank.

 

“What if I let it go and you later pretend you don’t know?”

 

“When did I pretend I didn’t know?”

 

“Are you sure you don’t know? It’s what you do best. When I ask, “Do you like sweets?”, you say, “I don’t know,” instead of a direct answer.”

 

No, well. Although I often do that.

 

“Because I don’t do that anymore.”

 

Since me trying to draw a line with Dante has failed, there’s no point in turning a blind eye to the answer in that way. If I really wanted to draw a line, this shouldn’t have been said. Dante had to be as cold as he was at first and not talk well.

 

It’s all because Dante is more handsome than I thought, because he accepted my words well, and because he communicated well with me. In short, it’s all Dante’s fault.

 

Now, with more and more chattering conversations, I’ll get to know him more. The more conversations piled up, the more difficult it would be for me, but it was no big deal.

 

I can’t help but hope that I can forget about Dante as soon as Dante leaves.

 

It’s nothing else but a friend, so this should be fine.

 

***

 

From that day forward, sitting side by side reading each night became our implicit rule.

 

After all, there were many times when we could hardly read books when we were chatting and arguing, but somehow I wanted to insist that we meet every night because of books.

 

For the first few days, it was awkward to have a small conversation with Dante, but after a week or so, I quickly got used to it.

 

When it felt like it was fun to talk at night rather than during the day, a thought came to my mind.

 

“Wait a minute. When you said the last time you looked at me that I was unusual, you also don’t go to bed early.”

 

I always check to see if Dante is awake every time I come out of the living room, but I haven’t seen him sleeping lately. There was no sign of him being forced to wake up, so it seemed like he was used to sleeping late at night.

 

When I asked him why he thought I was unusual, Dante answered as if it was quite natural.

 

“Because I can use magic. It’s no business to light up the surroundings if I want to.”

 

“Really?”

 

After hearing his answer, it’s even weirder.

 

“By the way, I heard that nobles hire magicians to light the lights. So you’re saying that magic is better than a lamp like this?”

 

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“Of course.”

 

At this point, it’s so weird. I frowned and Dante looked at me as if he was wondering.

 

“Then why do you use these?”

 

What I was pointing to were the lights that were lit around me. A lamp that barely makes you read letters even if you put one on the table and one under your feet.

 

Hearing my words, Dante made a look of bewilderment.

 

“It wasn’t even a matter of illuminating the surroundings if you put your mind to it. Aren’t you uncomfortable using it?”

 

“Like you said, it was uncomfortable. At first…”

 

It’s unusual for him to stutter.

 

“No way, you…”

 

“…”

 

“Are you not well enough to use Light Magic yet?”

 

“What?”

 

“But is it harder to use Light Magic than to fix a wall? I don’t know much about magic.”

 

Dante seemed to think about my words for a while, then nodded hastily.

 

“Right. It’s more difficult to light the lights, but I’m not in good shape to do that.”

 

“I thought you were almost all better because you were doing well, but I guess not.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

For some reason, Dante’s face was so brazen that it was questionable, but I decided to move on.

 

“Then you should go to bed earlier. If you keep getting less sleep like this, it’s not good for your body.”

 

It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a sincere worry. In fact, when the person I live with is sick, I’m the one who suffers in the end, so the expression ‘half-worried and half-bruised’ was appropriate.

 

“Sleeping early doesn’t mean I get better soon. And I don’t even want to go to bed early.”

 

“Why?”

 

Dante paused for a while at my question and said.

 

“If I go to bed early, I can’t talk at night… with you like this.”

 

“…”

 

“…Do you want me to go to bed early?”

 

I can feel his eyes that seem to be carefully examining my feelings. He seemed to be worried that I might leave the living room reluctantly.

 

Upon receiving that gaze, I suddenly realized that it wasn’t unfamiliar to me that Dante looked at me in this way. From that moment on, Dante always cared about my mood and asked me what I was thinking.

 

As if he doesn’t want to do things I hate.

 

Something felt strange.

 

“If so, I wouldn’t have come out like this every day.”

 

Dante’s face widened at my words. Seeing how happy he was, I turned my eyes away, unknowingly embarrassed, when Dante’s earlobe caught my eye.

 

It was so vividly red that I couldn’t say it looked like that because of the light of a lamp.

 

Since when has it been like that?

 

…

 

I thought Dante was less shy. But when I think about it, he was less likely to make it obvious in front of the villagers, and he was still shy in front of me.

 

He blushes, doesn’t know where to put his gaze, fidgets, and doesn’t sit still. Until now, I thought it was simply because of his personality. Yes, at least so far.

 

But when Dante starts to take a closer look at how I feel, it’s a different story. Beyond wondering about me, I can see that he’s happy to be with me and his face blushes just by being next to me.

 

And anyone can recognize that it is typically the image of a person feeling excited.

 

It would be better if it was an illusion.

 

“Dante.”

 

When I called his name, his purple eyes turned to me. Those eyes, which I thought were cold colors, were filled with all kinds of tender feelings, so I had to try not to avoid them.

 

“Why did you call me?”

 

“…Nothing. Just read your book.”

 

He thinks I’m strange and asks back, yet he’s obedient as he does what I ask. When I discovered that he was listening too well, complex emotions seemed to rise from the bottom of my heart.

 

There is no point in worrying about when Dante has been like this. I couldn’t even figure out what caused it. It was none other than me who ignored him every time he did this and didn’t pay much attention to it.

 

I could tell, however, that there were a lot of moments worth noticing. If it was just curiosity about the person living with him, he wouldn’t be so frustrated because he didn’t know about me. Besides this, there were really, really surprisingly many things that were suspicious.

 

I’d rather stay unnoticed. I felt a sense of despair at the vaguely slow gaze.

 

But in the end, there’s nothing I can do right now. I can’t really do anything other than pretend I don’t know.

 

Dante was sitting next to me and quietly reading a book while I was thinking about 101 ways to pretend to be ignorant. Even if it seemed that he was completely concentrating on the book, the fact that he would immediately turn to me if I called him made me feel at a loss.

 

It’s been several months since I’ve been living with someone in this house, and the night I find out why Dante has suddenly become strange. At the time when bedtime had passed, I managed to admit it.

 

Dante likes me.

 

Turns out he likes me…

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